


Without Conviction

by anerdwithakoreanhaircut



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: M/M, Phanfiction, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2057979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anerdwithakoreanhaircut/pseuds/anerdwithakoreanhaircut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has a secret that will crush Dan. (wow how cliche sounding…shush just read it). Written in first person, you read as Dan for the majority of the fic until the last section where you read as Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Conviction

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Karma Chameleon by Culture Club. The lyrics are italicised, centered, and are slightly altered.

 

_Desert loving in your eyes all the way_   
_If I listened to your lies would you say_   


I should’ve seen it in his eyes; they were void of emotion every time he said, “I love you, Dan, you know I do.”

Only within the past few weeks of our two-year long relationship have I thought to myself that, no Phil, I don’t know if you love me.

If I had been listening to his tone when he would say those words, I would’ve heard that he said them the same way he would say, “I’m hungry.” They were just words for him and nothing more; he acted like they weren’t words that meant everything to me.

I still wouldn’t be listening for that tone had I not heard myself say “I love you” to him whilst editing my video and hearing how much I love him in my tone when saying it. It was when he went to return the words that I noticed they didn’t sound remotely true for him.

_He’s a man without conviction_   
_He’s a man who doesn't know_   
_How to sell a contradiction_   
_You come and go_   
_You come and go_

The words were correct, the smile was there, it was the same look I’d always seen…but tone is everything. His tone was dull compared to mine; sad, even, like he couldn’t believe I believed him.

And since I started to notice, I’ve been acting differently; acting more lovey in the hopes of conjuring up some semblance of real love from him, only to have him physically  as well as emotionally push me away.

He started leaving the house more and going fuck knows where. He’d be gone for hours, all day sometimes. The first time he disappeared without telling me he was gone the whole day and night, and I made countless worried phone calls to not only Phil but friends and family. When he finally came back, he didn’t tell me where he was, what he was doing. He just grabbed my face and kissed me hard.

But, just like his words, the kiss was missing the emotion.

Now it doesn’t faze me when he’s gone for hours on end with no word on where he was or how long he’d be gone, and I stopped counting the hours.

_Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma Chameleon_   
_You come and go_   
_You come and go_   
_Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream_   
_Red, gold and green_   
_Red, gold and green_

On one of the nights Phil didn’t come back, I had a wonderful Technicolor dream of our love. In the dream, his eyes mirrored my eyes in the love, adoration really, reminding me of when he really did look at me like that. He was so bright and colourful, much like the Phil I had met those few years ago. He was smiling bright and the way he spoke those three words made my heart swell.

Then in a blink, everything turned dark and frightening. Suddenly Phil wasn’t the same.

He was terrifying, really. Sharp teeth, pointed fingers, he loomed over me. But it was his eyes that terrified me the most.

Amongst all the obvious nightmare qualities this Phil had, his eyes looked very much like the ones I see on a regular basis.

I shot up, very much wide awake after dream me realised what he was looking at, and I didn’t have to look to know Phil wasn’t there to calm me, comfort me.

Not that he would have, anyway. Even when he’s physically there, he’s not emotionally there anymore.

_Didn't hear your wicked words every day_ _  
And you used to be so sweet I heard you say_

I can never get him to talk to me anymore. I want him to tell me what I’m doing wrong, what I’m doing that’s driving him away, but every time I open my mouth to do so he gets up and leaves the room at the intake of my breath.

When I don’t try to broach the subject of Us, not even thinking about it, and go to talk to him he has no issues staying, listening, and responding. It’s like he can tell when I go to talk about Us, and blatantly ignores it.

Today, I went out to buy some apples that I was craving, only to get halfway to the store to realise I didn’t have my wallet on me. I never forget my wallet, but I guess shit happens.

Luckily I didn’t lock the door when I left, seeing as Phil was still home, and I went in.

Somewhere, deep down, I felt an instinctual need to keep quiet, as I could hear Phil talking, angrily.

I took whisper-soft steps up the stairs, to the lounge door and listened.

“…not the issue.”

Silence ensued, and I figured he must be on the phone because he frustratingly responded with, “He’s too fucking stupid to see what’s going on, Carter. He’s so wrapped up in the fairytale in his head. He’s grasping onto thin threads, and honestly I don’t want to be the one to cut them completely.”

My heart panged in my chest. Who’s too stupid? What’s going on? Is he talking about me? Is…is he talking about us?

The abrupt understanding of the brief part of conversation I overheard hit me so hard I fell back against the wall and slid to the ground.

_That my love was an addiction_   
_When we cling our love is strong_   
_When you go you're gone forever_   
_You string along_   
_You string along_

I was in too deep to even think about the possibility that Phil wasn’t just going out for walks, or hanging out with friends or shopping. In fact, as I recalled the few times I caught him coming back, I remember thinking that something wasn’t right. Now, I know. It was his scent. He normally smells, well, like Phil, but those few times he smelled of lavender and vanilla, or like sickly sweet fruits. Like feminine perfume.

Disappearing for random amounts of time, sometimes not coming back until early the next morning, being so distant, not wanting to talk about it, it was all quickly adding up: Phil is cheating on me.

I didn’t give myself time to be sad right then, I’d do that later. Now, I needed to get my wallet and made it clear that not only was I home, but that I had definitely heard his stupid fucking conversation to stupid fucking Carter.

Carter. Is that who he’s cheating on me with? I don’t even know any Carters.

My wallet wasn’t where I was expecting it to be, so I couldn’t just grab and run like I was hoping. Instead, the misplaced wallet gave Phil time to run into our room, mainly my room as of late, to try and talk to me.

“Dan—”

“No!” I was too hurt and raw and angry from the horrible realisation to want to even hear his voice right now. “Don’t talk to me you fucking asshole! How could you do that to me?”

The fire in my eyes was apparently too much for Phil to handle, because he looked away as soon as my eyes met his.

“D—”

“We could’ve worked it out, Phil! We could’ve fucking talked like I wanted to, but no, you had to go and fuck that possibility up the ass by fucking someone else. W—”

“Wha—? Dan, I think—”

“SHUT UP!” I picked up the closest object that wouldn’t potentially kill him (which was a pillow) and threw it at his head. It was so out of character of me, that Phil didn’t think to duck or block, so it hit him as hard as it could on the right side of his face. His hand immediately went to cradle it.

“Do you have any idea what you mean to me? You’re everything for me, Phil! How could—how could you do that to me?” I was choking on my words, unable to hold in my sobs.

I flashed back to a very similar place in our timeline, back when we first met in person four, almost five, years ago now. He had just gotten me settled into his bedroom for the night and I was laughing so hard about yet another story of his involving a really strange person, when I got a text.

Have you ever gotten a feeling of dread and heart-sinking just from a single noise emitting from your phone because you just _know_ who it is and you just _know_ it’s not going to be good and that it’s going to ruin your day? That’s exactly what happened as I opened my messages and saw that my dad had texted to say that he managed to find out that I had lied about the reason I was up in Manchester, and that he was majorly disappointed and angry that I had went to meet that “creepy ass man” from the internet after he specifically said that I wasn’t allowed. I was eighteen, for fuck’s sake! I was allowed to do whatever I wanted!

And I had suddenly felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders and my amazing day turned sour.

Next thing I knew I was crying uncontrollably, choking on my words to answer Phil’s questions of, “What happened? Are you okay? Dan, what happened?”

Eventually he realised I wasn’t going to be able to answer him, so he had just wrapped his arms around me and cradled me as I sobbed into his shoulder.

About twenty minutes had passed before I told him everything. I had lied to him, too, about my parents being okay with us meeting, because he had said that if they weren’t okay with it, then we’d have to wait until they were comfortable with the idea. I just couldn’t wait, I had to meet him, and so I had lied to the three of them.

That was the first and, in retrospect, one of the only times he said “I love you” and sounded like he meant it.

We had hinted at dating, but I wanted to wait because we had an amazing friendship and I didn’t want to fuck it up. He said he’d wait until I was ready, if I ever was.

Two, almost three years after that, we started dating. I was too blinded by my own love for him that I didn’t see he hadn’t had the same spark, the same love that he had had when he first said

“I love you.”

That mix of memories flashed behind my eyes in a literal blink.

The feeling of being enveloped in Phil’s embrace never use to fail to combat horrible feelings, but now it was like pouring acid on my skin.

I shoved him away with a growled, “Get away from me!”

I pushed up from the ground that I sunk to and left Phil there. I found my wallet in the pocket of my jeans from yesterday, and practically bolted out the door, ignoring Phil’s pleads of, “Dan, wait!”

_Every day is like survival_   
_You're my lover not my rival_   
_Every day is like survival_   
_You're my lover not my rival_

My heart feels like it’s going to implode. I feel so sick, with it really sinking in that Phil was fucking someone else behind my back for so long. How could he do that?

It’s been two weeks and every time I remember what he did it’s like the wound that’s trying it’s hardest to heal just keeps getting ripped open again. This hurts so much, and is the exact reason I didn’t want to date Phil to begin with: this had ruined our friendship.

I’ve been staying at this hotel for a week, seeing as the last one was just too close to home, literally, only a kilometer away from what was once a haven.

I had to get a new phone charger and new clothes as I literally left everything but my phone, wallet, and the clothes on my back.

Phil was calling me nonstop for three hours before my phone died, even then as I got it charged and turned it back on it was still bleeping with notifications of texts and calls from him for the next hour. He seemed to have given up, and started calling me every ten minutes the next day, which turned into every half hour on the dot the day after that, then every hour on the fourth day of my dramatic exit, and by now has dwindled down to once a day.

The voicemails and the texts get deleted straight away. It would be easier to block him, but I really can’t bring myself to do it. In my head, if I block him from being able to call me, tweet me, message me, I’m blocking him out of my life.

I don’t want to block him out of my life; he means everything to me still. I am clinging on to the hopes that we can still talk it through and work it out, even though he cheated on me. We can work through this, we have to.

I’m still hopelessly in love with him, and I need that love back.

_I'm a man without conviction_   
_I'm a man who doesn't know_   
_How to sell a contradiction_   
_You come and go_   
_You come and go_

As soon as Dan left, I screamed into my hands.

His words, _Do you have any idea what you mean to me? You’re everything for me, Phil!,_ feel like an arrow through my heart.

He thinks he knows, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand, and right now he’s not willing to let me explain and that kills me.

He doesn’t know how much I was, and still am, hurting because I knew ultimately I was going to have to hurt him.

He thinks he’s hurting now. That look on his face was so painful it knocked my breath out.

What was actually happening was going to hurt him so much more than what he thinks happened. The reality might actually kill him, and that terrifies me.

Because he thinks I don’t love him enough for him to be my one and only; that maybe I fell out of love with him and into lust for another.

But that’s not it, Dan. It’s not that I don’t love you enough, because I do.

_I was hoping you’d realise it, Dan, and leave,_ I thought to myself. I could hear it in my own voice that I wasn’t saying those three words properly anymore, because whilst they were, are, true, I didn’t mean them the same anymore. The tone had changed.

I was so upset that I let us get that far, that I hadn’t told him sooner. Whenever he got clingy, I had to leave. It was too painful to stay, to continue to knowingly lead him on.

Whenever I left and couldn’t bear to go back to our house, our bed, and play pretend, I would go to Carter’s and talk with her, hoping that maybe she could help me somehow, and would more often than not fall asleep on her sofa.

As soon as he left, I had to call her to rant because I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t only losing my boyfriend; I was, more importantly, losing my best friend. It had gotten so bad that I couldn’t talk to him about anything relating to our crumbling relationship because I had to word what I needed to say properly, try to lessen the pain it was sure to inflict, and even after all these years with it, I still didn’t know how to tell him.

And in the midst of ranting about how stupid he was, that was when he just had to listen in. So I knew why he thinks what he does, but that doesn’t make the reality of the situation less painful, if anything it hurts more.

Three weeks after he left, he finally shows up at the door.

He knocks, but I just wait for him to realise he doesn’t need to knock, he still lives here, this is still his home.

Eventually, he finally got that hint and came in.

I was sitting on the chair opposite his favourite seat on the sofa, and as he peaked into the lounge, I pointed to it and said, “Sit. I have to tell you something.”

He looked scared, yet relieved.

Before I could say what I needed to, he spoke with words that ripped through me like bullets—

“Phil, I know, okay? I know what you did,” his eyes water and he sniffles.

“I know what you did, but you know what? I want to work through it—”

I knew where this was going, and I physically felt ill, so I tried to cut him off, tried to stop him.

“Dan, please, you don’t underst—”

“No, Phil, I do. But please hear me out—”

“Dan, you have to hear me out before you—” this was killing me, because I didn’t want him to say what I knew he would.

“Phil, I can forgive you if you just tell me why.”

—his voice was so filled with hurt, but it was so hopeful. It absolutely fucking killed me.

I sighed as tears gathered in my eyes.

“Dan, what I’m going to say is going to hurt you more than you even know.”

He sucked in his breath, tears already nonstop, but nodded anyway.

“Dan, bear, it’s not that I don’t love you, because I do, because you’re my best friend.

I had been so in love with you, so infatuated with you when we met in person.

But you wanted to wait to date, and that I could understand. You wanted to make sure we wouldn’t fuck up our friendship, and I was so sure we were going to end up together forever in the end that I waited, because, back then the first time I brought up dating each other, I would have waited ‘til the end of time for you.”

Somewhere in there, he must have realised I was using past tense, that if this were the present, I wouldn’t wait anymore.

He let out such a painful sounding whimper that struck through my ears, pierced my heart.

“Please, don’t tell me—”

“Dan—”

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Phil…” he sobbed out. He clutched at his heart and brought his legs to his chest.

I had to keep going though.

“I said this would be painful, Dan. I have to tell y—”

“Phil, please,” it was hoarsely whispered out, but I still made out what he said.

I shook my head as he stared at me with eyes so painfully confused and hurt and just sad, so incredibly sad.

But I had to finish.

So as tears ran down my own face, I told him:

“Dan, as you were getting ready to tell me that you had fallen in love with me, that you were ready to date, that you were sure we’d be okay, I was working up the courage to tell you…”

I took a shuddery breath, watching as he shook his head, lip quivering, hands clutched over his heart so tight I had a flitting thought his hands would stay that way if he wasn’t careful.

I wiped the tears out of my eyes only making room for more to come as I, finally, told him:

“Dan, it’s not that I fell for someone else…it’s that I fell out of love with you

And never fell back in.

I’m sorry, Dan. So, so fucking sorry.”

Because it was my fault he was feeling like this and it was my fault he fell in love with me and it feels like my fault that I can’t fall back in love with him.

For the first time in my life, I finally understood what the phrase “heartbreaking” meant, because I was sure mine, as well as his, was doing just that.

_That my love was an addiction_   
_When we clung on our love was strong_   
_When I go, I’m gone forever_

_I’m sorry I strung you along._

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I associated with any person(s) mentioned in my work. “Phan” (shipping name of danisnotonfire (Dan Howell) and AmazingPhil (Phil Lester) is not real nor am I claiming the relationship to be. Everything here is written for my own entertainment as well as the entertainment of others. If any parties mentioned in stories would like the stories removed/altered, please notify me and I will not hesitate to delete/alter the work.


End file.
